Beneath the Wheel Read Online Free

Latin.”
    His classroom teacher before beginning the day’s first lesson said to the other pupils: “So, the examination in Stuttgart is about to begin and we want to wish Giebenrath the best of luck. Not that he needs it. He’s as smart as ten of you lazybones put together.” And most of the pupils too turned their thoughts to the absent Hans, especially those who had placed bets on his failing or passing.
    And because heartfelt prayers and deep sympathy easily take effect even over great distances, Hans sensed that they were thinking of him at home. He entered the examination room with trembling heart, accompanied by his father, anxiously followed the instructor’s directions, and looking around the huge room full of boys, felt like a criminal in a torture chamber. But once the examining professor had entered and bid them be quiet, and dictated the text for the Latin test, Hans was relieved to find that it was ridiculously easy. Quickly, almost cheerfully, he wrote his first draft. Then he copied it neatly and carefully, and was one of the first to hand in his work. Though he managed to get lost on his way back to his aunt’s house, and wandered about the hot streets for two hours, this did not upset his newly regained composure; he was glad to escape his aunt’s and father’s clutches for a while and felt like an adventurer as he ambled through the unfamiliar noisy streets of the capital. When he had asked his way back through the labyrinth and returned home, he was showered with questions.
    â€œHow did it go? What was it like? Did you know your stuff?”
    â€œCouldn’t have been easier,” he said proudly. “I could have translated that in the fifth grade.”
    And he ate with considerable appetite.
    He had no examination that afternoon. His father dragged him from one acquaintance or relative to the other; at one of their houses they met a shy boy who was dressed in black, an examination candidate from Göppingen. The boys were left to their own devices and eyed each other shyly and inquisitively.
    â€œWhat did you think of the Latin?” asked Hans. “Easy, wasn’t it?”
    â€œBut that’s just it. You slip up when it’s easy and don’t pay attention and there are bound to have been some hidden traps.”
    â€œDo you think so?”
    â€œBut of course! The professors aren’t as stupid as all that.”
    Hans was quite startled and fell to thinking. Then he asked timidly: “Do you still have the text?”
    The fellow pulled out his booklet and they went over the text word by word, sentence by sentence. The Göppinger candidate seemed to be a whiz in Latin; at least twice he used grammatical terms Hans had not heard of.
    â€œAnd what do we have tomorrow?”
    â€œGreek and German composition.”
    Then Hans was asked how many candidates his school had sent.
    â€œJust myself.”
    â€œOuch. There are twelve of us here from Göppingen. Three really bright guys who are expected to place among the top ten. Last year the fellow who came in first was from Göppingen too. Are you going on to Gymnasium if you fail?”
    This was something Hans had never discussed with anyone.
    â€œI have no idea.… No, I don’t think so.”
    â€œReally? I’ll keep on studying no matter what happens, even if I fail now. My mother will let me go to school in Ulm.”
    This revelation impressed Hans immensely. Those twelve candidates from Göppingen and the three really bright ones did not make him feel any easier either. It didn’t look as if he stood much of a chance.
    At home he sat down and took one last look at the verbs. He had not been worried about Latin, he had been sure of himself in that field. But Greek was a different matter altogether. He certainly liked it, but he was enthusiastic about it only when it came to reading. Xenophon especially was so beautiful and fluent and fresh. It